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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458366">Shade 31</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistnipples/pseuds/louistnipples'>louistnipples</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fine Line - Harry Styles (Album), One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:21:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23458366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistnipples/pseuds/louistnipples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>His life, as it seemed, ended with a car crash. He was an amazing painter and now has an extreme tremor and new found addiction to alcohol. It felt as though his life was over. That is, until a new addition to group therapy, with icy blue eyes, shows him that life continues after something dies.<br/>»<br/>this story will be full of mentions of mental health, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, suicide, and self harm. if any of those are a trigger for you, please consider not reading. i will not be putting warnings before any of the chapters.<br/>thanks,<br/>darby :)</p><p>*ALSO AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD*</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>before we start i just wanted to say that this story will be full of mentions of mental health, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, suicide, and self harm. if any of those are a trigger for you, please consider not reading. i will not be putting warnings before any of the chapters. </p><p>thanks,</p><p>darby :)</p><p>»</p><p>There is something about painting that calms the mind like no other. The way the paint glides across the canvas like silk is a feeling one can never fully cherish. For Harry, this feeling was one he craved. It was his drug, his addiction, his life. This feeling took him away from the world. This feeling would stop time for him, and in those moments of time, he would create beautiful masterpieces.</p><p>It was the accident that would forever ruin this feeling for him.</p><p>November 19th, 2016 is a horrid day in his memory. He was on the way to the opening of his third solo exhibition when it happened. He was driving slow due to the rain when a car smacked him from behind. It should have been nothing but a simple fender bender. Harry would deal with slight whiplash for two weeks and he would be fine. It wasn't fine.</p><p>The whiplash turned into tremors. His hands were never perfectly still anymore. It got worse when he held pens, pencils, and paintbrushes. He went to physical therapy seven days a week for a month. While the tremors improved they never really stopped. What did stop was his art. What started was his addiction to alcohol.</p><p>Now instead of calming paint strokes across blank canvases, Harry craved the burning sensation of vodka running down his throat. Slowly one shot a night turned to five shot a night, which slowly turned into a bottle a day. It scared his friends; made them run.</p><p>His only friend that stayed was Monica. A bubbly spirited angel, one might call her. She was only five foot two and couldn't have weighed more than 120 pounds. Her black hair and dark features made her a catch. To say she was gorgeous was an understatement. He met her at group therapy for car accident victims. She lost her leg in a car accident ten years ago at age twelve.</p><p>"Yeah, it was tragic. But not any less tragic than your accident, Harry." she'd tell him. His reply was another swig of vodka.</p><p>It was December 31st, 2017 and she was begging for him to go out with her.</p><p>"It's just this once," she begs.</p><p>"I'm already drunk," he mumbles back. He stares at his hand as it trembles. He places it against his chest.</p><p>"It'll only be for an hour."</p><p>"I have no one to kiss."</p><p>"I'll kiss you."</p><p>"No you won't," he says and sits up. Monica sighs in disappointment and leaves without another word.</p><p>That's just how it was. Harry didn't party or have fun. His life, which use to be full of amazing galas and lavish parties, was now a deep swirling mess of darkness and rain.</p><p>This was his new normal. Depression, tremors, and anger so deep set he doubts there will ever be a cure to it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started raining one night. The rain was never a good thing for Harry. Rain meant panic attacks and long nights of gut-wrenching memories. He sat in his closet and clutched one of his old canvases: a painting he never got to finish. Sobs racked his body as another crack of thunder sounded, and rain pounded against his window. Monica was gone for the night. He had to be alone. He was always alone.</p><p>As he sat in his closet, he remembers that he had therapy in the morning. He felt like skipping. The rain might not be finished in the morning, and he didn't want to drive through the storm. The rain hurt him. He saw no beauty in the rain anymore. The rain was one of his worst enemies, coming second to the fucking tremors.</p><p>That morning when he awoke, he found himself still in his closet. The panic attacks had become his new lullaby. Most nights ended with panic attacks. He stumbles out of the closet and peaks out the curtains, fear of the rain beating against the window. He was instead created with calm weather, the only sign of rain was the leftover drops on the windowpane. He sighs and goes into the kitchen to make himself breakfast: black coffee with whiskey.</p><p>Harry was staring into the abyss when Monica knocked on his door, saying it was time to go. Harry tries to ignore her as long as possible, but in the end, he knew that she was gonna budge. He stands up and opens the door, looking down at her.</p><p>"I don't wanna go." he sighs. He notices her scanning his appearance, the long night of crying and personal physical abuse was undeniable.</p><p>"You say that every week." She says, pushing past him into the apartment. She goes into his bathroom and starts the shower. "Shower and get dressed. We need to leave soon," she says.</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes. "I mean it every week," he grumbles and goes into the bathroom. He takes a quick shower, not bothering to wash his hair. When he leaves the bathroom, his bedroom has been picked up slightly, and an outfit lays on his bed. He puts on the black jeans and black t-shirt Monica laid out, going into the kitchen.</p><p>Harry's apartment was messy, although he would call it "artistically messy." He never gave up on trying to paint. Every night he would take a paintbrush and hold his hand as steady as possible. He'd give up before the brush would touch the canvas. Instead, he would throw the brush on the ground and would resort back to the breakdowns and alcohol.</p><p>The floor was riddled with new and old paint stains. He could tell you which painting each belonged to, but very slowly, the past was being covered, and every new splash of paint was replaced with a date, with a new breakdown.</p><p>The apartment smelled of alcohol and rotting food. The kitchen was full of half-drunk bottles of whiskey and vodka, and forks and spoons so old they're growing mold. The living room smelled similar, with a faint smell of paint. The longer he goes without painting, the more the scent fades. The bedroom smells of the worst body odor imaginable. It made guests' eyes water, but Harry was use to the stench. It is, of course, how he smelled most of the time - a mixture of body odor, alcohol, and depression.</p><p>"I made toast. You can eat it on the way," she says and leaves the apartment with him.</p><p>Harry hates churches. He hates them more now that he goes to one once a week to talk about his tragic life story.</p><p>When they get to the conference room the meeting is held in, he sits in the circle, Monica joining him. He sighs unhappily as the leader of the group sits down. He was a large man in his late forties. His name was Samuel, but Harry and Monica liked to call him Flubber.</p><p>Flubber had lost his wife and four children in a drunk driving collision twenty years ago. He started this "club" (as he called it) so that others dealing with loss and/or trauma could come together to help others.</p><p>"Morning," he says with a smile, "Happy New Year." Everyone in the circle mumbles morning. Harry rolls his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. He wants to die.</p><p>Flubber tells the group that they're gonna go around in a circle and introduce themselves. He started first, and it slowly went around the circle. Harry zoned out most of the time until a particular voice sparked his interest.</p><p>He hadn't heard it before, and it was very uncommon to hear another English accent in New York. Harry looks up straight at the man. His breath catches in his throat.</p><p>If Harry could still paint, he knew what he would paint about. It would be about this man. He was shorter than the average man and thicker in all the places that mattered. His thighs and hips curved beautifully into his slim waist. His chest flutters softly as he takes a deep breath. His lips are parted almost sinfully, the light pink color slick with spit. His feathery, golden locks rested just below his eyebrows, but not enough to hide the icy blue eyes just below them. Harry had an exact color to match those eyes. Ocean Tide, shade 31. It was now his new favorite color.</p><p>The man sits just across the room from Harry, his knee stretches out in front of him. He had a knee brace on and winced when it straightened. 'He's in pain still,' Harry thought. Harry noticed himself leaning forward in his chair, his interest in the stranger before him peeking.</p><p>"I'm Louis," he smiled. Harry felt his stomach turn when Louis smiled. He indeed was a piece of artwork. Harry was almost jealous he hadn't thought of painting a man of such beauty before.</p><p>"Hi, Louis. Would you like to share with the class what happened to you?" Samuel asks, and suddenly Louis' smile was gone.</p><p>'No!' Harry's thoughts screamed, 'Keep smiling forever. Never stop smiling.'</p><p>"My kneecap shattered," Louis mumbles. "I was a dancer, and now I'll never be able to dance again," he says sadly. That's when his eyes met Harry's. Somehow his eyes seemed brighter when they looked directly at Harry.</p><p>"I'm so sorry," Harry says without thinking. When he realizes he spoke out, he blushes deeply and looks away.</p><p>"Sorry, 'm drunk," he mumbles, making the situation worse.</p><p>"Harry! It seems like you're more eager to talk today. Why don't you fill us in on your last couple of weeks? You mentioned last time that you quit physical therapy. How have you been since that ended?" Harry makes eye contact with Louis again and shakes his head. He didn't want to talk, afraid he would embarrass himself again.</p><p>After everyone was done talking, they all got up and headed for the food table. Harry reaches for the last chocolate muffin when it's snatched from just under his fingertips. Harry snarls and looks up, right into those blue eyes.</p><p>Louis smiles at him. "Let's split it, yeah?" he says and limps back over to the chairs. Harry follows, grumbling under his breath.</p><p>Louis carefully breaks the muffin in half and hands one of the halves to Harry. "Harry, is it? I'm Louis."</p><p>"I know."</p><p>"You smell like vodka."</p><p>"You smell like tobacco." Harry spits back. Louis laughs loudly.</p><p>"I like you, Harry. Even if you're a little drunk." Harry just rolls his eyes.</p><p>Monica comes over and introduces herself to Louis. Harry zones out and picks at his muffin. His hands shake angrily, and crumbs fly onto the floor. He's not sure how long he is out of it, staring at his hand with every ounce of anger in his body before one sentence quickly brings him back.</p><p>"Harry is a beautiful artist. We could swing by his solo exhibition after this and look around." Monica offers.</p><p>"No." Harry spits. "It's just full of shitty paintings and broken dreams," he mumbles. "Besides, I was an amazing artist. I'm not anymore. No point 'n going." Louis frowns at Harry and touches his leg.</p><p>"We don't have to go anywhere that makes you uncomfortable." he says softly, "but I like you too, and I'd love to be friends." he smiles. Harry rolls his eyes and walks off, throwing his uneaten muffin away.</p><p>Monica and Louis share phone numbers as Harry waits impatiently by the elevator for Monica. The two embrace in a simple hug before Monica goes over to Harry.</p><p>"I wish you would be nicer to people."</p><p>"I don't do nice."</p><p>"You did when you could paint."</p><p>"That part of me is dead." Monica frowns and doesn't say anything further.</p><p>When Harry gets home half an hour later, he fixes himself another drink and lays on his couch. His thoughts and memories drift back to before the accident.</p><p>When his hand still worked, he was a fantastic artist. His work was compared to Michelangelo and Gogh. His paintings sold for thousands of dollars and created beautiful messages for the world to view. His pieces were timeless and classy. He was the next best thing to grace the art world.</p><p>He started sobbing, thinking of the tragedy that was November 19th.</p><p>He made himself another drink.</p><p>»</p><p>
  <em>Guests surrounded Harry, all laughing. Jazz music plays from the live band on the stage. Harry walks through the crowd, smiling at congratulations thrown his way. It was the premiere night of his second art exhibition. He was dressed elegantly in a red floral Gucci suit. His hair was down and curling around his shoulders. His lanky limbs pranced confidently across the room. All eyes were on him. He was a real piece of art.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Museums spent the night bidding for his artwork. Once his exhibition would close, it would be sold to a museum. He sat confidently as the prices continue to sour higher, and higher. He glanced around the room at all the people there to celebrate him and his work. A right minx he was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His eyes continue to dance around the room until they settle on a tall and dark gentleman. Harry smirks and finishes his drink quickly. He stands up and crosses the room to the man while in the background, people continue to argue over the worth of his art.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hello." Harry smiles, sitting next to the man. "'m Harry."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hello, Harry. I'm Elijah." he smiles back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Are you here with anyone?" Harry questions, casually bumping knees with the man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"My father, actually. He currently holds the highest bid on your exhibition." the man says, placing a hand on Harry's knee and pushing it away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Is that so," Harry says, watching his hand. "Does that mean you will own my artwork after tonight"? The man nods carefully, feeling as though he was about to enter dangerous territory. Oh, how correct he was.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry leans forward and purrs into the man's ear, "How about you own another part of me tonight as well."</em>
</p><p>Harry bolts up in bed, tears streaming down his face. It was a beautiful dream, but now that life was beyond him. He no longer wore lavished suits or went to elegant parties. No one bid millions of dollars on his art. He, simply put, was a nobody.</p><p>He lays back down and looks at the wall. The dream had felt so real, so authentic for a second, he debated whether or not it was a dream at all. But he knew better. He knew his life was no longer glamorous.</p><p>Harry sighs and pinches his lip. He's far too sober. He can physically feel his body aching for the burning relief. He sits up and rubs his face, grabbing the bottle of vodka next to his bed.</p><p>It doesn't take long for the shots to overtake his body. He can feel the numbness radiating throughout his body. He smirks. This feeling is home.</p><p>He's in the middle of another shot when Monica bangs on the front door, causing Harry to spill his shot. He groans loudly and stomps over to the door.</p><p>"What?!" he growls, his collar drenched. He's quickly embarrassed; however, when he sees that Louis is standing there next to Monica.</p><p>"Warm welcome," Monica says sarcastically, entering the apartment.</p><p>Louis stood back and admired the apartment. It was an artist's apartment, no denying it. Paint splatters cover the floor, and incredible full wall mural's across every wall. On the ceiling is a painting of leaves and vines, the 3D effect making it appear as though the vines would fall down onto you.</p><p>He continues to look around and also notices that it is filthy. The couch is no longer a couch, more of a pile of scattered cushions and stained fabric. The rug has a million spills on it, and is folded up carelessly. All of the blinds are broken, allowing natural sunlight to flood the room.</p><p>And, what hits Louis the hardest, was an easel in the corner of the room with a half-finished painting on it, with a streak of thick, black paint running across it.</p><p>It was absolutely beautiful. Probably the most beautiful painting he has ever seen. It shows a man standing in front of a thick forest. He's innocently peering over his should, innocent eyes practically begging you to love him. It was innocently erotic. Unfortunately, only about a third of the painting was done, so you could only see to the chest of the man. Louis was confident this painting would have been in a museum.</p><p>While Louis looks around eagerly, Harry glares at Monica, then at Louis, and back at Monica.</p><p>"Why is he here?" he hisses, his face a dark red.</p><p>"He's joining us on the subway to Flubbers cry fest," she whispers casually.</p><p>"I don't trust him. He knows nothing about me!"</p><p>"Harry, he lost a part of himself that is very close to him as well. The least you could do is show a bit of sympathy. Perhaps bond over your losses."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Whatever. We're leaving in twenty. Go shower."</p><p>"I'm not going."</p><p>"You always go, Harry."</p><p>"Well... I don't want to." But, of course, Monica doesn't take no for an answer and shoves Harry towards his bathroom. He grumbles but climbs into the shower, none-the-less.</p><p>Monica looks at Louis. "Come on, come help me."</p><p>Louis snaps out of his phase and looks at her. "Help with what?"</p><p>"We're gonna dump these bottles and fill them with water. It'll take him at least a week to notice."</p><p>Louis hesitates, but nods. He helps her gather bottles from around the room. He can't help but notice the lack of any family photos. 'Doesn't this guy have a family?' he wonders.</p><p>Monica and Louis make quick work, dumbing out most of the vodka and replacing the rest with water. It'll smell like vodka, but it won't get him drunk as fast.</p><p>"Won't he get mad?" Louis whispers, anxiously looking over at the room.</p><p>"He's too drunk to notice."</p><p>"Is he always drunk?" he says quietly. Monica just nods sadly.</p><p>"He really is an amazing guy. His mom told me stories. He was a very successful artist, and because of one small car accident, he lost the most important part of him. His mom said the drinking took over quickly. The accident was a year ago in November. He... he use to be the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Now he's just... broken."</p><p>Louis nods sadly. Part of him is glad that he hadn't sank to Harry's level after his accident, but another part of him wishes he had. Dance was all Louis ever knew.</p><p>Louis started dancing when he was 5. Despite his friends calling it a girls sport, he fell in love quickly. At the age of twelve, he began to train professionally at the New York City Ballet. By twenty, he had a signed contract.</p><p>He was a star performer for six years before his accident in June of 2017. Now in January of 2018, he has had two knee surgeries, both of which were a total fail. He was told that his chances of walking were slim, and his chances of ever dancing again were over.</p><p>Many months of physical therapy allowed him to gain enough strength to walk; however, the thought of ever dancing made his leg erupt in pain.</p><p>To say he was depressed after the accident was a simple way to put it. He had been dancing for twenty-one years and suddenly couldn't anymore. But he knew himself. He knew he couldn't just sit around and be unhappy forever.</p><p>In September, only three months after his accident, he started to assist a dance teacher at his first ballet school. Still unable to walk without the help of a crutch, he would sit at the front of the room and call out different bar exercises. Once he was finally on his feet, he was able to start correcting their bodies.</p><p>Louis loved his job. He knew his career as a dancer was over, but part of him held onto it. He wished and prayed every day that he would have the opportunity to dance just once more. Sadly, that would never happen. He would never dance again. But when he watching these kids move so elegantly across the floor, learning to love the craft like he once did, the pain seemed to hurt just a little bit less.</p><p>After the bottles had been empty and put back, he helped Monica throw away trash and organize the room. She was putting dishes in the dishwasher when Harry exits his room.</p><p>Louis thought he looked stunning. He was wearing a simple, white button-up with the three top buttons undone, exposing his milky white chest. Louis could see underneath the shirt a faint outline of all of his tattoos. The shoulders of the shirt were wet from his slightly damp hair, and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows.</p><p>As Louis' eyes move down, he can see a pair of black slacks clinging tightly to Harry's leg. He had muscular thighs, probably the result of living in New York for several years. His feet are in a pair of water damaged brown boots. Clearly, he had been wearing them outside during the snowier months in New York.</p><p>"Harold, come help with the dishes," Monica says.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"Because I don't want to."</p><p>"Don't act like a child."</p><p>"Don't treat me like one."</p><p>Monica rolls her eyes and closes the door, hitting start. "Okay, we're gonna be late," she says.</p><p>Louis slips back into his snow boots and thick winter jacket. Monica does the same. Harry just throws on a scarf and puts his hands in his pocket.</p><p>"It snowed," Monica says.</p><p>"So?"</p><p>"So, you'll be cold. Put on a jacket."</p><p>"All are dirty." Harry shrugs simply. Louis sighs and slips his off, handing it to Harry.</p><p>"No reason to be drunk and cold." Louis mumbles. It's the first thing he's said to Harry since he arrived.</p><p>Harry, too shocked to say anything, takes the jacket silently and slips into it.</p><p>"Let's go," Monica says, carefully looking between the boys. She opens the door and heads into the hallway.</p><p>Giving up his jacket was a terrible idea. Louis spends the whole walk shivering. His lips are blue, and his fingers feel as though they're about to fall off. He's miserable.</p><p>Harry, on the other hand, is extremely embarrassed. He's gotten used to Monica calling him out on his terrible drinking habits, but it feels different coming from Louis. He knows he has a problem, he's just never wanted to fix it.</p><p>When they get on the subway, Louis is shivering, his lips blue. Harry sighs and hands him his coat back. "We'll share it," he says. Louis carefully takes the jacket from him and puts it on. It's warm from Harry wearing it and smells like a mixture of cigarette smoke, Louis' favorite body wash, and now the added scent of alcohol. Louis smiles and looks at Harry.</p><p>"Thank you," Louis says. Harry just nods and waits for their stop. Monica looks over at them, smirking slightly. Even if the boys couldn't see it yet, Monica could. These boys were going to save each other.</p><p>It was another fifteen-minute walk before they got to the church. Luckily for Harry, the heat was on the inside, so he had warmed up quickly. He blows into his shaky hands to warm them up as they wait for the elevator.</p><p>After a short walk down a dimly lit hallway, they finally enter the dreaded conference room. Monica quickly grabs a nearby chair and sits down, her leg screaming in pain. Louis joins her, loosening his knee brace while he waits. Harry sits next to Monica, his hand is shaking extra lousy today. Louis watches as his right hand, leg, and foot shake. Harry is clearly upset about it is trying to use his left hand to minimize the bouncing on his leg. He looks over at Louis.</p><p>"Quit staring. It's fucking rude." Harry spits. Louis quickly looks away and looks down.</p><p>"Sorry." he practically whispers. Flubber walks in then, greeting everyone.</p><p>Monica leans over. "Ignore him when he's like this. I call him the pound puppy. His bark is worse than his bite. He's just embarrassed." She smiles apologetically and starts listening to Flubber.</p><p>"Good morning, all. I have some news I want to share with all of you." He smiles. "I am engaged." Everyone erupted into cheers and congratulations except Harry. He's still shaking violently.</p><p>"Thank you, thank you." Flubber laughs. "So, does anyone else have any good news to share?" he looks around when Louis raises his hand.</p><p>"I... was able to use the stairs at physical therapy yesterday." he smiles. "I haven't been able to use stairs since my second knee replacement surgery. It's a huge accomplishment, probably my biggest since I learned how to walk." Harry stares at Louis as he talks.</p><p>'Physical therapy was working for him... maybe it'll work for me.' Harry thinks and looks down at his hand, shaking violently. Everyone around him is congratulating Louis on his successes. Harry never got praise for going to physical therapy, mostly because it never helped. But... maybe it could if he was patient. He imagines his hand being still and possibly having the ability to hold things again. His eyes water. He wishes he could walkout.</p><p>"Harry? Are you okay?" Flubber asks. All eyes land on him. "Is there something you want to talk about?"</p><p>A single tear rolls down Harry's cheek. "I... I'm jealous that Louis' physical therapy was working when mine wasn't. My tremors are worse than ever," he says, trying to stop the shaking. His heart pounds violently, embarrassment racing through his veins. "And I wish that I could just stop fucking shaking!" he snarls.</p><p>"I understand Harry-" Flubber starts.</p><p>"No! You don't!" Harry shouts. "I'm sitting here, involuntarily shaking while all of you stare at me! No one gets it! I lost everything about myself!" he takes a deep breath. "No one fucking gets it," he whispers and wipes the tears off his cheeks. "I'm a freak."</p><p>"You're not a freak, Harry." a girl across the circle says. "No one here is a freak. We're just different."</p><p>"Yeah, Harry. This doesn't have to define you." a man says. "You can still live your life."</p><p>"I can't," Harry says. "I am... I /was/ an artist," he says and stands up, gently gliding his hand to his chest as it continues to tremor. "I'm nothing without art."</p><p>Monica watches him sadly as he walks out. She sighs and looks at Louis, before turning back to the group.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"Hi, Monica. It's me, 'arry. I am... am really drunk. Like, super drunk." he chuckles. "I... I tried painting again tonight. It looks like shit. Like me. Me... I'm shit. Like actual shit. I really would be better off dead. That's actually why I'm calling you. Do you think I should drink myself to death or take pills? I guess it doesn't matter. Since I'll be dead. Haha. Um... yeah. Bye, I guess. It's getting dark."</em>
</p><p>Harry had been hospitalized four times since the accident. One for a suicide attempt, one for alcohol poisoning, and two for tremor-related injuries. Harry sits on his couch after the break down at group counseling. He sighs deeply and looks up. His fingers tap on his knees, and he stands up to pace. He pinches his lip nervously and runs his hand through his hair.</p><p>He grabs the bottle of blue paint that had taken over most of his thoughts. He runs his fingers over the 31 and then grabs a painting tray. He pulls out a blank campus and a paintbrush. He sits on the floor and tries to paint. It's shaky, uneven strokes, but it lets Harry's mind wander.</p><p>Louis. Louis Louis Louis. God, what Harry would have done to him before he was broken. They were both young, life edging them towards the joys of sexual pleasure. Louis was a dancer, extremely in shape and healthy. Harry could imagine him coming out of rehearsals, shirtless and sweaty. Harry would have pinned him against the wall and licked the sweat off of his neck.</p><p>His mind starts to wonder further, imagining Louis pinning Harry down face-first into the mattress, pounding into him as if the promise of tomorrow was gone. Harry would be sore for days, but would continue to let Louis fill him as long as he pleases.</p><p>Harry comes back to after a reasonably aggressive tremor, which caused the paintbrush to fall out of his hand. His "painting" was the same color in streaky, uneven lines. Some of it even got onto the floor. He would be embarrassed to show this to even a kindergartener.</p><p>Harry stands up and wipes some of the paint off of his hand before closing the paint lid. He kicks the canvas into a pile of previous existing paintings and heads over to the couch. He's achingly hard and needs to do something about it.</p><p>He grabs a beer out of the fridge and pops it open, taking a hefty sip. Before he can even reach the couch, however, he is interrupted by a knock on the door. He groans and quickly tries to hide is "problem" before he opens the door.</p><p>Louis stands there, nervously. He looks at Harry when he opens the door. "Hi. Sorry if I'm intruding." Harry blushes deeply, his daydream rushing back into his head and his cocking hardening further. He is sure that if Louis were to look down now, he would be able to see just how hard Harry truly was.</p><p>"N-no, you're fine. Good. Good. You're... good." Harry sighs and pinches his lip nervously. He shifts and tries to hide further behind the door. "What's up? I thought for sure I would have scared you off after my meltdown in group therapy today."</p><p>"Actually, that's why I'm here. I wanted to check on you." Louis says honestly. His blue eyes flood with worry and care, an emotion Harry hasn't seen anyone express towards him in a very long time. "Monica told me I should leave you alone, but, I wanted to make sure you were... safe." He says, quickly glancing at the beer in Harry's hand.</p><p>Safe. He wanted to make sure Harry was safe. No one made sure Harry was safe anymore. They all just assumed that he was safe. Or... they thought he was too drunk half the time to do anything actually harmful towards himself. What they all failed to ask was if Harry felt safe himself. The truth? Harry hardly felt safe with his tremor and looming suicidal thoughts.</p><p>But Louis wanted to make sure he was safe. Harry could have done a thousand flips from how happy that made him. Happy. Louis actually made Harry feel happy for the first time in over two years. And all because Louis had said that he wanted Harry to be safe.</p><p>"Safe. Yeah, I'm safe. I guess." Harry shrugs and leans against the door frame. He casually sips his beer again, failing to notice that Louis frowns further as he takes the sip. "Is that... all?"</p><p>Louis nods. "Uh, yeah, that's it. Did Monica give you my number?" He watches as Harry shakes his head no. "Well, I'll have her give it to you. We live just a few blocks apart, so if you ever need anything feel free to give me a holler."</p><p>"Uh... no. I'm good. I don't need a babysitter. Thanks, though." Harry says.</p><p>Louis winces. "I didn't mean it like that..."</p><p>"No... no, of course you didn't." Harry rolls his eyes and sips his beer again. Maybe Louis isn't as fantastic as he had initially thought. All he seems to want to do is baby him. Harry doesn't need to be babied.</p><p>They stand there for a few awkward moments before Louis decides to break the tension.</p><p>"I'm gonna go."</p><p>"Kay."</p><p>"Are you going to Monica's party tomorrow?"</p><p>"I thought you said you were leaving."</p><p>"I am," Louis says, shuffling his feet. "Bye then."</p><p>Harry watches him walk down the hall until right before he reaches the elevator. "I wasn't invited," Harry calls. Louis turns around and shrugs.</p><p>"Guess you're my plus one. I'll be here tomorrow at 8?"</p><p>Harry is shocked by Louis' confidence. "Uh. Yeah sure. 8 works."</p><p>"Bye," Louis says, turning and stepping into the elevator. The last thing Harry saw before the doors closed was Louis bright blue eyes. "Shade 31," Harry whispers and closes the door.</p><p>»</p><p>As Louis had said yesterday, he was knocking on Harry's door at precisely 8pm. Harry stumbles out of his room and opens the door.</p><p>The sight actually stuns Louis and takes him a minute to take in. Harry looks fantastic, wearing a pink button-up, dotted with white circles. He matched it with black skinnies, which honestly seemed almost too skinny. He, of course, was wearing his famous brown boots, but this time his locks were thrown up into a man bun. That, however, was the last of Louis concern. Harry was much drunker than Louis had ever seen before. He was so drunk he couldn't stand straight without holding onto the door.</p><p>Louis shakes his head and helps himself inside. "Harry? You alright, mate?" Harry just nods, his eyes half shut.</p><p>Louis takes Harry by his elbows and leads him into the bedroom. He sits Harry down and tells him to stay put. He runs into Harry's kitchen and notices an empty bottle of vodka and several opened beers. He has no idea how much Harry had to drink, but he can tell it was too much.</p><p>He grabs one of the empty beers and fills it with water, going into the bedroom again. Harry is slumped over, his face in his knees. Louis lifts him up carefully and hands him the bottle. Harry drinks and scrunches his nose, looking at Louis.</p><p>"It's beer, I promise." Louis lies. Harry shrugs and drinks the whole thing before laying down on his pillow. Louis removes his shoes for him, but decides that he doesn't know the boy well enough to help him undress. He leaves the room, closing the door behind him, and then takes out his phone and dials Monica's number.</p><p>"Hey Lou!" she shouts over the music. "This is a killer party already! I can't wait until you get here!"</p><p>"Uh... about that, Monica..."</p><p>"Oh, and there is this adorable guy I want to introduce you to! I think you two will get along great."</p><p>"Monica listen-"</p><p>"Also, someone just got here with the weed, so if you're looking to get high, which I'm sure you are, you should try to get here soon. When are you getting here?"</p><p>"Uh. Never. I invited Harry-"</p><p>"YOU WHAT?!" she shouts. "Oh, Louis, how could you! I purposely don't invite him to these things! Party's make him act like a kid in a candy store!" she groans</p><p>"Don't worry. He couldn't make it out the door." Louis sighs. "But I should have known better. I just wanted to let you know I'm not gonna make it. I'm sorry."</p><p>"It's alright, Louis. I understand." she sighs. "Text me when you're home, alright?"</p><p>"Yeah, for sure. Be safe tonight," he says before hanging up.</p><p>He checks on Harry one more time before leaving a trash can beside his bed and a water bottle. He writes a note for Harry on a sticky note and leaves it on the kitchen counter before leaving the apartment.</p><p>As he walks down the hallway towards the elevator, he cringes. He can't leave Harry like that. What if he pukes and starts choking on it? Or worse. Louis groans and turns around, going back into Harry's apartment.</p><p>He can hear Harry vomiting in the bathroom, and he immediately rushes to his aid. He crouches next to Harry and rubs his back as more vomit racks over his body. Harry looks up and makes eye contact with Louis. His breath hitches.</p><p>"When did you get here?" Harry slurs, slumping down against the wall. The water and vomiting helped him sober up.</p><p>"About 20 minutes ago. You were too drunk to even realize I was here. I was gonna leave but... I think you need someone to watch you now." Louis says, which causes Harry to scoff.</p><p>"I don't need you to feel sorry for me."</p><p>"I don't," Louis says honestly. "In fact, I think you're kinda stupid."</p><p>Harry chuckles and nods. "Yeah. A little bit. Grieving, though."</p><p>"Yeah. I feel that." Louis says, carefully joining him next to him.</p><p>"Should you have been kneeling next to me just now?" Harry asks, pointing a finger towards Louis' bum knee. Louis takes note of how Harry is blackout drunk and, this is the most normal Harry has behaved since they met. He hated it. He hated that alcohol was Harry's stabilizer.</p><p>"Uh, Nah. But I took pain meds so I should be okay." Louis shrugs.</p><p>"Oh. That makes sense." Harry nods, using the wall to help himself stand up. Louis nervously watches him, before using the sink to pull himself up with one knee.</p><p>"W-what did happen to your knee?"</p><p>Louis frowns. "Yeah. That useless little thing." He chuckles. "It's a long story." he shrugs, following Harry back into the bedroom. Harry lays down and then pats the bed next to him.</p><p>"Hop in, I have time," Harry says. "Unless you don't wanna talk about it."</p><p>"No, no. I will." Louis sighs and sits next to Harry. Louis reminds himself that Harry won't remember this tomorrow. That doesn't mean that he doesn't take note of the way his heart rate increases by sitting next to Harry. Harry leans himself on his side and props his head on his elbow, staring at Louis.</p><p>He starts by telling Harry all about how he first joined dance because his younger sister joined it. He talked about how he had an immediate passion for it and how no matter how much teasing he got in school from the other boys, he would continue to dance. He talked about how it eventually moved for a hobby, to a passion, to the only thing he could think about. He eventually applied to join the Royal Ballet School and at the age of twelve, and moved from the UK to the USA to dance full time. He talked about how much he loved to dance and how it was the only thing he could think about half the time. And how at 23 he fell while goofing around -drunk- with his friends and shattered his knee cap. He spent a whole year on surgery, physical therapy, and attempting to dance again. And how, just a few months after his 24th birthday, he needed another surgery for his knee.</p><p>"The doctor said I had gone back to dancing too soon," Louis says, fiddling with the duve. Harry had moved to lay on his bicep instead, but was still looking at Louis. "I had to have another surgery. It went fine, but it got infected and... I don't know how any of this shit works, but the infection left me in a world of pain. The last two years have been medications, doctors, appointments, and physical therapy. I'll never dance again." he sighs.</p><p>Harry takes his hand. "I am so sorry, Louis."</p><p>"It's okay. It... " he looks away, trying to find the right word.</p><p>"It's life?" Harry says, looking in his eye. Louis looks back at him and smiles softly.</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>Harry nods and sits up. "I feel like you're the only one who gets me. My family and Monica try, but... they'll never understand what it's like to love something so much it consumes you and then lose it like," he tries to snap, but the tremor makes it impossible. "Well... you get it." Harry sighs.</p><p>Louis stares at him. "You mentioned at Flubbers that you're never going to paint again. Why?"</p><p>Harry pauses for a while, just staring at the wall in front of him. Louis was sure he wasn't going to answer when he said, "I'm scared that if I paint again, I will just become some... sob story. Great artist thinks he lost his talent after a tragic accident but learns how too paint again or some bullshit like that. I'd rather be remembered as Harry, the great artist who left than some tragic bullshit story that is used to guilt people into never giving up."</p><p>Louis nods and thinks about that. "I understand. Dancers don't really get second chances like that, so I never thought of it that way."</p><p>Harry nods. "I... My life is a mess. I'm just not ready to give up being upset about what I lost. No one gets that. Right now... I can talk freely about feelings and fears and hopes and shit because when I wake up, I won't remember it. But when I wake up tomorrow I'll be sober, maybe a little hungover, but sober and I'll have to feel every emotion so heavily I'll need a drink to get through it. It's... it's too hard. Facing reality."</p><p>Louis looks at Harry and then slowly cups his cheek, making Harry look at him. "Harry. That is the most tragic thing I have ever heard leave someone's lips."</p><p>"I'm pretty tragic, Louis," Harry whispers softly.</p><p>"You don't have to be," Louis says. Harry's eyebrows pinch together, and he angrily pushes Louis' arm away. "Yes, I do! My whole life story is tragic! I'm a fucking tragedy! Man... I really thought you of all people would fucking understand." Harry spits.</p><p>"Harry-"</p><p>"Save the shit, Louis. Get out."</p><p>"What."</p><p>"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Harry booms. Louis' eyes widen, and he nods, quickly scrambling out of Harry's bed.</p><p>"I'm gonna sleep on the couch, just so someone is watching you tonight."</p><p>"Whatever," Harry says, rolling to face the window.</p><p>Louis frowns and walks out, closing Harry's door behind him. He places the pillows back onto the couch and uses his coat as a jacket. He hears Harry get sick two more times before he's able to finally force himself to go to sleep.</p><p>However, as soon as he closed his eyes, he hears Harry opening the door.</p><p>"What the... fuck?" he whispers. Louis opens his eyes and looks at Harry, standing in his doorway. However, he quickly looks away when he sees Harry standing there in only a pair of boxers, his hair up in a towel turban.</p><p>"Shit. Sorry. Uh." Louis stutters, sitting up, still not glancing at Harry.</p><p>"Why are you here?" Harry asks, shielding himself behind the door. "This is considered stalking."</p><p>Louis' eyes widen, and he looks at Harry. "No! No, I'm not stalking you. I came over to get you yesterday for Monica's party. When I got here, you were too drunk to even walk. I slept over to make sure you wouldn't die."</p><p>Harry's face falls. Memories of last night flash before him. He woke up around noon, and immediately was wracked with some of the worst tremors he had ever experienced. He was shaking so violently it felt as though he has finally lost all control of himself. He laid in bed for hours, sobbing in agony. They lasted six hours.</p><p>Six hours of pain.</p><p>Six hours of crying.</p><p>Six hours of violent suicidal thoughts.</p><p>It took six hours before the tremors died down enough for him to get out of bed. He had half a bottle of vodka and 7 beers before he was drunk enough to ignore the tremors. And not that he was planning on admitting this to Louis, but he wasn't dressed nicely to go to a party.</p><p>That was the outfit he wanted to be found in when he was dead.</p><p>His suicide outfit.</p><p>Louis had found him just in time, although by the sounds of it, it sounds like Harry probably would have been too drunk to complete the job in the first place.</p><p>"Oh," is all Harry says.</p><p>"Yeah," Louis replies.</p><p>Harry closes the door and leans against it, letting out a deep breath. He quickly changed into sweat pants and a plain white tee and brushes out his hair. He is expecting Louis to be gone, but instead, he comes out to Louis looking through his fridge.</p><p>"Hey! What the Hell?" Harry yells. Louis jumps and hits his head on the top of the fridge before removing his head. He rubs the back of it and looks at Harry.</p><p>"Just... looking for something to make breakfast with. Or... lunch considering it's almost one. But, it looks like you don't have much mate." Louis sighs.</p><p>Harry crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.</p><p>"Come on, let's go get lunch. There's a good bar just down the block with delicious nachos and beer." Louis says, walking towards his shoes and jacket.</p><p>Lunch isn't really Harry's thing, but a bar is. He agrees and slips on a pair of shoes and a hoodie.</p><p>"Ready?" Louis smiles at him. Harry nods and leaves the apartment with Louis.</p><p>"Lead the way," Harry says.</p><p>As they walk down the street, Harry stares down at his shoes. Louis is, instead, taking in the environment around him. He watches all the cars, looks at billboards, and smiles at people walking past. He's loved living in the heart of New York, and he's going to enjoy every minute of living here while his knee can handle it.</p><p>Harry, on the other hand, wanted to escape the city and live in a suburb with a white picket fence, a dog, and too many children. He always wanted that, but with his art career, it was more beneficial to live within the city. Now that he can't paint and his career is over, he has no reason to live in the city. Well... except for his lack of income. He couldn't afford a house right now, even if he genuinely wanted to. He was stuck. Stuck in the city. Stuck with the alcohol. Stuck with the tremor. Stuck in his mind.</p><p>"This place has the best mac and cheese," Louis says, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. "Do you like mac and cheese?"</p><p>"I mean...' Harry plays with his rings. "It's not my favorite. I really like salad or burgers."</p><p>"Oh, they have the best burger here. It's a flat patty with bacon, avocado, tomato, lettuce, onions, and then they pour a melted cheese all over it." Louis smiles and opens the door for Harry.</p><p>"That does sound pretty good," Harry says and enters the building. They go and sit at a table and look at the menu.</p><p>"Welcome to Townhouse of New York." the waitress smiles. "Can I start you with any of our house-brewed beers, IPA's, or liquors?" she smiles.</p><p>"Can I get your IPA on tap," Harry says. Louis is staring at him nervously, worried that Harry's drinking problem would ruin their little outing. Harry hands the waitress his ID, and she quickly scans it over before setting it back in Harry's hands, looking at Louis.</p><p>"Um, I'll just do water," Louis says to the waitress. She smiles at them and walks off.</p><p>"Nothing to drink?" Harry says, not judgingly, but somewhat confused.</p><p>"Oh, I can't drink with my pain meds." Louis shrugs. "Would send me into shock."</p><p>"Oh. That makes sense." Harry nods. "Thank you. For staying last night."</p><p>Louis heart flutters. He was thankful. "It was really no problem."</p><p>Harry stares at the table for a while before whispering out a quite, "It wasn't?"</p><p>"Pardon?"</p><p>"It was a problem?"</p><p>"No, Harry. I wanted to do it. Nothing about last night was a problem. I promise."</p><p>Blue met green. And then Harry did something he hadn't done in a very long time. He smiled.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was on this particular morning that Harry noticed something was different. He hadn't had a nightmare last night, he didn't wake up crying. He actually wanted to see what was going to happen that day.</p><p>He starts by picking up is clothes that have been lying on the floor for God knows how long. He places them into the hamper and then starts cleaning up empty beer cans and tequila bottles. He opens his window and throws away the dead plants in the window sill. He pulls all of his sheets off the bed and takes the laundry to his laundry room. He looks around the apartment and sighs. It was a start. At least he could see the floor of his bedroom again, and the window was helping air out the stench.</p><p>He takes his phone off the counter and reads his text messages.</p><p>
  <strong>Monicaaa: good morning harold :))) no therapy today, but do you still wanna hang?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: Morning. Actually, I need some help. Be at my house ASAP?</strong>
</p><p>He puts his phone on the charger in the kitchen and starts to do some laundry. Monica knocks on his door twenty minutes later. When he answers the door, she looks at him nervously.</p><p>"Are you okay?!" she panics.</p><p>"Yes." Harry frowns. "I didn't mean to startle you. I just wanted some help cleaning up my apartment."</p><p>"Cleaning your... Harold, you motherfucker! You gave me a heart attack." She sighs. "Why are you cleaning?"</p><p>"I... don't know. I just woke up really happy today. So I felt like cleaning." Harry shrugs. She smiles and hugs him.</p><p>"Good. That's really good." she pulls away and walks into his apartment. She starts on the dishes while Harry looks at all of his painting stuff. He starts to stack all of his unused canvases into the corner, and takes his completed and uncompleted paintings and lines them up against the wall. He folds up the easel and puts it behind his couch out of sight. He then starts organizing his shelf and drawers full of paints and paintbrushes. He grabs all of his paintbrushes and starts soaking them in a mason jar. He looks at the area and sighs.</p><p>"I have trouble telling myself that this part of my life is over forever." Harry frowns.</p><p>"Maybe it's not," Monica says simply. Harry looks at her like she's crazy.</p><p>"Okay. Come sit with me." Harry looks at Monica and then follows her to the couch.</p><p>They both go and sit on the couch (which has been made by Louis just a few short days ago). Monica grabs Harry's hand and sighs.</p><p>"I know you don't believe in God, but just hear me out. I think he has put all of us through a shitty time. I lost my fucking leg, and you had a terrible car accident that ruined you from doing your passion. But, I believe that God never puts us through something we can't get through. I learned how to live my life with one leg, and you are slowly learning how to live with your tremors. However, God wanted me to move on. To forget about soccer and basketball, and every other sport I played. He doesn't want you to move on. Maybe his plan is for you to somehow figure out how to paint again. Who knows. But you don't have to give up painting because you feel like you have to. You can give up writing when it's time for your heart, mind, and soul to give it up." Harry wipes the tear that fell onto his cheek and lays his head on her shoulder.</p><p>"No one tells you healing emotionally is the hard part."</p><p>"They don't. Now, let's put on some music, finish cleaning, and then we can go meet up with Louis for dinner." she smiles and stands back up. Harry starts to play music through his record player, and they quickly get his entire apartment cleaned up.</p><p>Monica cleans of Harrys brushes, wipes off the counters, and gets all of the clean dishes put into the cabinets. She is mopping the floor while Harry finishes folding up laundry and putting it away and making his bed. He cleans the bathroom and then steps into the living room. He throws more dead plants out the windows, opens all of the windows, and vacuums the carpet. He smiles once they're done.</p><p>"It feels good in here." Harry smiles and looks around. "My mind feels clearer now."</p><p>"That is why people normally clean often." Monica teases and sits next to him. Her phone dings, and she replies to a text. "Can Louis come over?"</p><p>"He wants to come over?"</p><p>"Yeah...? Did something happen?"</p><p>"No. I mean... not really."</p><p>"Not really? I need details." Monica turns to face him and smiles at him.</p><p>Harry smiles softly, pinching his bottom lip. "I think we might have gone on a date. After he found me blacked-out, he slept over to make sure I was okay. We woke up around lunchtime, and he invited me to a bar down the street. And we just ate and talked. Is that a date?" he seems nervous.</p><p>"I- I don't know. I would call that a date, but if neither of you said it was, I think it's hard to say for sure... But it definitely makes it sound like he wants to hang out with you." Monica smiles. "Do you have a crush, Harry?"</p><p>He nods. "I think my love for alcohol might be being replaced by Louis." He smiles at her.</p><p>"Have you had anything to drink today?" Monica says, grabbing his hand.</p><p>"No. I haven't. I... haven't even thought about having a drink." he says. But almost as soon as it was mentioned, his brain starts to demand the alcohol. He sighs and looks at the fridge. "Now, I want one, though."</p><p>His foot starts tapping, and his tremor in his right-hand returns. Monica notices and sighs. "Should we go out? Try to distract you from the temptation?"</p><p>"I... don't know. I haven't been this long without alcohol since... the accident." he bites his lip and glances at his fridge again. "Maybe just... one beer."</p><p>"Harry... no. Let's avoid that." Monica tries to keep him from standing up.</p><p>"Move, Monica..." Harry warns, trying to push her away, but struggling with the tremor. She pushes him back onto the couch and stands above him. He kicks her prosthetic, and she falls back onto the rug. Harry rushes over to the fridge, ripping it open and pulling out a beer bottle. He opens it, his anxiety calming with the familiar fizz emitting from the bottle. He takes a long drink from the bottle.</p><p>This. This feeling was home.</p><p>Not Louis. Louis wasn't around all the time. Louis could leave the minute he decided Harry was too much of a freak to deal with. Alcohol would never leave him. Ever.</p><p>"Harry. What the fuck?"</p><p>Monica has tears running down her cheeks. He looks over and sees that the kick he delt caused her stump to bruise. She grabbed at her leg, trying to hold back how much pain she's actually in. </p><p>Harry looks down at the bottle in his hand and then back at Monica. Was this, this fucking alcoholic drink, so important to him that he would hurt his friends to get some sort of relief.</p><p>"Monica... I am, so so sorry." He starts to walk over to her, but she holds her hand up.</p><p>"Just... leave me alone, Harry." She spits. She puts her prosthetic back on and stands up. She limps to the front door and leaves, slamming the door shut.</p><p>Harry stares at the closed door for what felt like hours. He finished one beer, two beers, six beers. He can't seem to stop. How could one little drink ruin everything good in his life? The morning was so good. Now it's... it's all fucked. And it's all Harry's fault.</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: Monica I am so sorry.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: Please text me back.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: I don't know why I did that. It was like something overtook me. Please, forgive me.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: I love you. I'm sorry.</strong>
</p><p>He sits on the bathtub, contemplating drowning or poisoning. Poisoning would be the quickest and least painful, but he doesn't think he has enough pills. Drowning would be the hardest and most painful, but he definitely could do that tonight.</p><p>He pinches his lip and holds his head angrily. He didn't want to be here anymore! What made it so hard to commit to anything, even something as simple as suicide.</p><p>He throws an empty bottle at the wall and screams. Was it fear, anxiety, his uncanny ability to pussy out of every single life decision he will ever make? Or was it because of Louis? And his stupid blue eyes, and perfect smile, and body that Harry wishes he could see. Was all of this in life because of him?</p><p>Louis. The boy with a shattered knee.</p><p>Louis. The boy who smoked a pack a day.</p><p>Louis. The only boy Harry has ever imagined being with past a one night stand.</p><p>Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis.</p><p>Harry slips and falls backward into the bathtub. Water splashes over the edges and onto the freshly cleaned floor. Too drunk to get out with his gangly limbs, he resorts to falling asleep in the bathtub.</p><p>It's Louis who wakes him up the next morning by turning on the shower. Harry jolts awake and looks at him.</p><p>"What the fuck?" he yells and looks up.</p><p>"What the fuck happened yesterday with Monica. She canceled plans, and when I called her, she was crying and said, you shoved her."</p><p>Harry takes note that he has never seen Louis so angry in his life. And that anger was because of Harry. It was always Harry's fault.</p><p>Harry sighs and climbs out of the bathtub, his clothes sobbing wet and freezing against his skin.</p><p>"Because I did."</p><p>"Why? She's in, like, a lot of pain today."</p><p>"Because I'm an addict!" Harry shouts and grabs the edge of the sink. He sighs and looks down into the bowl. "Because I'm a fucking addict, and she tried to keep me from drinking. So I snapped and shoved her. Happy?"</p><p>Louis frowns and softly touches Harry's back. "Hey. It's okay. I hadn't realized."</p><p>"But it's not okay." Harry looks at him. "She is the only thing I had left. I hadn't let my addiction come between us. And I just did." he groans. "She hates me."</p><p>"She doesn't hate you. She's just upset. But she knows what you're going through. Besides, I'm an addict too." Harry looks at him unconvinced until Louis pulls out a package of cigarettes. "Can we make a deal?"</p><p>"What kind of deal?" Harry says.</p><p>"We each send each other a text message when we cave into our addictions. So every time you have a drink or every time I smoke a cigarette. That way, we can visually see how many times we give in to our craving. And we can support each other through the hard days and celebrate the good ones."</p><p>Harry sighs. "I tried that. My therapist told me to put a tick mark on my hand every time I had a drink. I got too drunk to continue doing it, so I gave up." He pinches his lip and pulls off his wet shirt, leaving the bathroom. Louis follows, determined.</p><p>"Fine. Then I'll do it alone. And you can do start doing it when you feel like it."</p><p>"Why do you want to help me?" Harry asks, turning to look at him. "Why aren't you scared of me like everyone else? Just leaving me to rot?"</p><p>"Because... I can tell that you're too special to let rot." Louis blushes. "I can't let someone special go to waste like that."</p><p>Harry chuckles insecurely. "I'm anything but special. Or at least, now I am."</p><p>"I feel that way too sometimes. But, maybe, instead of trying to isolate yourself from others, you could try connecting and bonding. We both lost our past selves." Louis says and leaves the room so Harry can change.</p><p>Harry frowns and grabs a change of clothes. 'Both lost our past selves?' Harry thinks. 'Why didn't I ever think of that?'</p><p>He changes quickly and goes into his living room. Louis is laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling art. 'How bold.' Harry thinks. 'We're practically strangers, and he's laying on my furniture.'</p><p>Louis looks at him when he walks in and sits up. "Are you hungry? I can make breakfast."</p><p>"Eh. I'm more looking for something to drink." Harry says, pulling his hair into a ponytail. He opens the fridge to find no alcohol. He grumbles and starts to rummage through his cupboards. "Fuck!"</p><p>"No booze left?" Louis says, leaning against the counter.</p><p>"No." Harry groans and pinches his lip.</p><p>"Cool," Louis says and sets his pack of cigarettes on the counter. "Then I have no cigarettes left either."</p><p>Harry looks at him, his stomach filling with butterflies. "Are you really going to try and help me?" </p><p>Louis nods. "I sure am going to try."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Because I'm twelve and have a crush on you. I've always been a sucker for green eyes and long hair," he says, jumping on the counter.</p><p>Harry's heart jumps into his throat, but he tries to not let it show. "Someone's confident today."</p><p>"Eh. My knee is in less pain than normal, so I'm trying to enjoy it while I've got it." Louis says, shrugging. "Besides, I don't understand why people hide their crushes. It just makes the relationship stall."</p><p>"So was our lunch the other day a date?" Harry asks.</p><p>"Do you want it to be a date?"</p><p>"I asked you first."</p><p>"I think you wanted it to be a date."</p><p>"I never said—"</p><p>"Admit it. You wanted it to be a date."</p><p>"Okay. So what if I did?" Harry says and pinches his lip.</p><p>"Then I'd say that's a shitty first date and let me take you out on a real date. Dinner, movie, my place. I'll even pick you up." Louis smiles. Harry notices how, when he smiles, the blue in his eyes seems to twinkle.</p><p>
  <em>Shade 31, with a shimmer. It would make a fabulous background to one of his paintings.</em>
</p><p>"Okay. A date."</p><p>"On one condition. You have to be sober during the date."</p><p>Harry frowns and shakes his head. "Then you're never getting that date. I'm never sober at dinner time. I haven't been since my accident."</p><p>"Have you tried?"</p><p>"Yes." Harry snaps. "I fucking tried yesterday." Louis frowns.</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>Harry rolls his eyes and watches his handshake. Louis also watches his handshake. "Why did you stop physical therapy?"</p><p>Harry shrugs. "I can't remember. I can't remember why I did a lot of things." Louis frowns.</p><p>"Okay. You don't need to be sober for our date." Louis says. Harry looks at him. "I want to date you regardless of your addiction. I know they aren't as simple as I was making them seem. I'm sorry."</p><p>"It's okay," Harry says. "I... I want to get better. It's just too hard to do." he sighs and holds his hand against his chest. "I just... it helps me forget my accident. And I love that, you know?"</p><p>Louis nods. "Yeah. I know."</p><p>Harry looks at him and grabs the package of cigarettes. He takes one out and places it between his lips.</p><p>"Do you have a lighter?" Louis nods and pulls one out of his jeans, handing it to Harry. Harry lifts his shaky hands and tries to light it, but he is shaking too much for the lighter to flick into a flame. He sighs through his nose and walks over to Louis, handing him the lighter. Louis, with steady hands, lights the cigarette for him and pulls it out from between his lips. Harry gently blows the air out as Louis takes a huff and blows it out.</p><p>Harry lifts his hands and sets them on the counter on each side of Louis' hips. Louis smirks and takes another drag from the cigarette. Harry watches his lips wrap around the butt of the cigarette, and then blow out the air.</p><p>Louis turns his hand and places the cigarette in Harry's mouth. He takes a puff and blows out before Louis leans in and kisses the corner of Harry's mouth. Harry's hands clenched into fists and his breath hitches.</p><p>"Louis." he breathes out, his eyes fluttering closed. Louis pulls away and chuckles, taking another hit from the cigarette.</p><p>"Yes, Harry?" He says, leaning down and kissing the other side.</p><p>"When will our date be?" Harry breaths out, eyes still clenched shut.</p><p>"Tonight?"</p><p>"Okay." Harry opens his eyes and looks at him. "I wish I could still paint. You'd make a beautiful subject."</p><p>Louis blushes and rolls his eyes. "Oh, Harry. I can tell you use to be quite the charmer."</p><p>"Yeah, I was." he pulls away. "A whore too."</p><p>"Oh! A whore? I'm gonna need proof because I've never met someone that's a bigger whore than me." Harry laughs loudly and heads over to his couch, sitting down. Louis puts out his cigarette and joins him as Harry turns on the tv.</p><p>"You're growing on me, Louis."</p><p>"You're growing on me, Harry."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry stares into his almost empty closet, sighing deeply. He didn't have anything fancy enough to wear for his date. Most of his clothes now were sweatpants, oversized t-shirts, and ripped jeans. Louis texted him to dress fancy.</p><p>Harry sits on his bed and sighs. He grabs his phone, hands shaking. He uses Siri to call Monica.</p><p>"Yeah?" Monica says when she picks up, still sounding upset.</p><p>"Are you still mad at me?" Harry says quietly, pinching his bottom lip.</p><p>"Yep."</p><p>Harry sighs deeply. "Monica. You will never know how sorry I am for what I did. I feel terrible. I let my addiction get in between our friendship, and that was something I try so hard to not let happen. Please forgive me, because I know just how bad I fucked up."</p><p>He listens as Monica sighs and clicks her tongue. "I don't know, Harry..."</p><p>"Monica... you're all I have left." Harry's voice cracks violently. "Please."</p><p>Monica sighs again. "Okay. Okay... I forgive you. But... only because I know you're trying. If it happens again, I won't be so quick to forgive."</p><p>"Thank you. So much."</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah. Now, why'd you call? Is it because of your date with Louis?"</p><p>"Maybe..." Harry blushes and looks out his window. "Did he tell you about that?"</p><p>"Yeah, he did. He called me all stupid and happy when you finally agreed. He's got some big plans. I bet you'll be happy."</p><p>"Well... I can't find anything to wear so..."</p><p>"Okay. I know you don't want to hear this-"</p><p>"Then, don't say it!"</p><p>"-But you do have that one outfit that you hid in the back of your closet. And I know it has a terrible memory attached to it, but you look so handsome in it. And maybe, wearing it tonight will allow you to make a new, happier memory with it."</p><p>Harry sighs and his eyes water. "I can't."</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah. It's raining pretty bad." Harry says while buttoning his shirt. He's speaking to his mom on speakerphone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, mom. I know. But I won't even be the one driving. I'm taking a cab. I want to make it to my exhibit alive as well." He puts on his shoes and looks at himself in the mirror.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'll call you tomorrow, mom, let you know how it goes. I love you." he hangs up and sets the phone back down on the couch, grabbing his keys and wallet. He grabs an umbrella and leaves the apartment, the phone still sitting on the couch.</em>
</p><p>"You're stronger than you think, Harry. But if you really can't do it, your black jeans, a white t-shirt, and brown boots will do just fine."</p><p>Harry wipes the tears off his cheeks and nods. "Thank you, Monica. I'll text you tonight after the date."</p><p>"Sounds good. Thank you for apologizing. Enjoy your date." she says and hangs up. Harry places his phone next to him on the bed and puts his hands in his hair, tapping his foot.</p><p>She wanted him to wear the outfit that he was wearing the night of the accident. That dreaded outfit that he was wearing when his life when to shit. He bites his lip as more tears run down his face.</p><p>
  <em>"Fucking phone! I'm gonna be late!" Harry says, unlocking his apartment door. He scans the apartment and sees the phone on the couch.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Of course. Gonna be fucking late because of you," he grumbles, snatching his phone up.</em>
</p><p>Harry looks in the closets, and with shaky hands, pulls the suit out of the closet. He lets out a deep breath when he sees it, his left hand shakily resting on it. This one suit was the last memory he had from that night, besides his physical ailment. His body aches for alcohol, his stomach making him feel nauseous.</p><p>
  <em>"Come on, light. I'm gonna be late." Harry says, trying to look through the front window of the cab. He sighs and looks at his watch. 8:30pm.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Great! My exhibit just opened, and I'm not fucking there." he pinches his bottom lip when he gets hit from behind. His head snaps forward and then back violently. He groans as his airbag deploys. He pushes it down, looks up. His cabdrivers head is gushing blood, and he's passed out. A woman nearby is calling 911, as Harry walks to the car behind him. He noticed the hood of the opposite car is smoking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Harry pulls open the door and looks inside. A lone man sits in the driver's seat, unconscious but breathing. Harry sighs and leaves the man, walking back to the cab. He can hear the sirens approaching when he gets light-headed and passes out.</em>
</p><p>Harry tips his head back and takes a shot of vodka. He groans at the burn and then smiles. The vodka helps him forget. It always helps him forget. He goes to take another shot when his phone chimes.</p><p>
  <strong>Louis: Hey... Am I still picking you up at 7?</strong>
</p><p>Harry sighs. He's tipsy, his face is stained with tears, and his tremor is extremely terrible tonight. But he also doesn't want to cancel. He bites his lip and then uses Siri to respond.</p><p>
  <strong>Harry: Not having the best night... I don't have anything to wear.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Louis: ahahahaha I don't care about any of that. I just want to spend time with you.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harry: I'm also tipsy.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Louis: Okay...? You have an addiction, I didn't expect it to go away overnight.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harry: Can I wear jeans?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Louis: You can always wear jeans.</strong>
</p><p>Harry smiles. The rain is in the past. He is moving forward.</p><p>An hour later, Louis knocks on Harry door, holding a single rose. Harry opens the door and smiles at him.</p><p>Harry is wearing a plain white t-shirt, with black jeans on, which are ripped at the knees. He has on his brown boots that are clearly very worn, but still looked nice. His long hair is down, framing his face and on top of his head in a brown fedora.</p><p>"Hi." Harry smiles, taking in Louis. He's wearing black jeans as well, with black vans on his feet. He has on a white sweater with "Thank you" written upside down in red letters. Harry smiles at how cuddly Louis looks.</p><p>"Hi." Louis smiles and offers Harry the rose. "I decided to bring you a rose, a symbol of our first date." Harry smiles and takes it carefully, taking a sniff.</p><p>"I love the smell of a fresh rose." he smiles and lets Louis in. He goes to the kitchen and sets it on the counter.</p><p>"I know. Monica told me that. It's why you got it tattooed on your arm." Louis grins proudly as Harry grabs his phone, wallet, and keys.</p><p>"Yeah... that's right." Harry smiles. "You asked Monica about me?" Louis blushes deeply.</p><p>"I just... wanted to make sure tonight was perfect." He says bashfully, pretending to kick at a rock. Harry smiles at him, hiding his shaking hand behind his back.</p><p>"I'm sure it will be." he grins and pulls away. "Now, is everything tonight a surprise?"</p><p>"Yep." Louis smiles. "First, food," he says, offering his hand to Harry. Harry smiles and takes it, leaving the apartment. He quickly locks it and then follows Louis to the elevators.</p><p>"Your limp is worse today." Harry comments. Louis hums in response.</p><p>"I slipped in the shower last night and hurt it pretty bad. I... can't do much walking, so I brought my car. Is that... okay with you? Because of your accident?"</p><p>Harry smiles at Louis' kindness. Most would just assume Harry's feelings, but Louis wanted to make sure and ask.</p><p>"I'm okay in cars. Just as long as it's not raining. I should be okay." Louis nods and squeezes his hand.</p><p>"Sounds perfect." Louis grins up at him. When they get to the lower floor, Louis holds the doors open for Harry. Harry grins. 'Such a gentleman.' he thinks.</p><p>Louis retakes his hand and leads him towards his car. "It's... not anything special. So please don't judge. You don't exactly need a nice car in New York." Hardy nods as Louis unlocks a beat up 1999 Honda Accord. Louis opens the passenger door for Harry.</p><p>The inside was clean, clearly freshly vacuumed, but the smell of cigarettes almost overpowered Harry. Louis starts to apologize almost immediately as if he could read Harry's mind.</p><p>"I know the smell is bad. I'm sorry. I'll keep the windows rolled down." he says, embarrassment flashing across his face.</p><p>"Hey. It's okay." Harry smiles. "We both have our addictions. Remember?" he says and climbs in. Louis smiles and shuts the door, walking to the other side of the car. He slowly gets in, his knee making it harder to get in and out of the vehicle.</p><p>Harry takes note of how he sits. He holds onto the door and the headrest and slowly sits in the car. He then brings his good knee in, before using his hands to help his bad knee into the car as well.</p><p>"Alright. Ready?" Louis says, turning on the car. Harry nods and buckles his seat belt. Louis pulls out of his parking spot onto the road and then takes Harry's hand.</p><p>They drive in silence for several minutes, the radio softly playing. Harry watches the city go by as they drive. Louis starts to leave New York City.</p><p>"We're leaving the city?" Harry asks, shocked. Louis nods and quickly glances at him.</p><p>"Trust me. It'll be worth it." Louis smiles.</p><p>Harry nods and looks back out the window. "Okay. I'm trusting you," he says.</p><p>Louis continues driving, holding Harry's hand. When a good song comes on the radio, he starts singing along.</p><p>"You can sing?" Harry asks, looking at him in surprise.</p><p>"Not really. Some people say I can, but... I don't believe them." Louis chuckles. "I mostly sing in the car alone."</p><p>"Well, your voice is beautiful. It's super soft and light. Really relaxing." Harry smiles.</p><p>"Well... thanks." Louis grins. "I've always liked your voice too. So slow and low. Kinda like a post-sex voice 24/7." he teases. Harry blushes and shakes his head.</p><p>"My post-sex voice is so much better."</p><p>"Is that a challenge?" Louis smirks at him.</p><p>"Maybe."</p><p>Louis hums and keeps driving. Fifteen minutes later, Louis is pulling them into the parking lot of a hole in the wall restaurant.</p><p>"I found this place one night after a performance. I try to come here as much as possible now." Louis smiles and opens his door, climbing out. He walks as fast as possible to Harry's door and opens it.</p><p>"Thanks." Harry smiles. "What is it?"</p><p>"Sushi, mostly. Do you like sushi? I should have asked."</p><p>"I love sushi." Harry smiles, placing his shaking hands into his pockets to try and hide them.</p><p>"Awesome." Louis smiles and opens the restaurant door. Harry walks through and takes in the restaurant. It's small but packed. Every seat is taken except for a table in the back. A reserved sign sits on top of it.</p><p>"I'm pretty friendly with the owner. When I called and told her I was going on a date, she got so excited and said she was going to surprise us." He grins. "I'm sure it'll be great."</p><p>"Louis!" An old Japanese woman walks over to them. She hugs Louis tightly. "I saved you a seat, and I am having my chef's make you the best courses possible! Is this your date?" she looks at Harry.</p><p>"Yes, Aiko, this is my date. Harry, this is Aiko, one of the most generous women I have ever met." he smiles and hugs her shoulders. Aiko holds her hand out, and Harry winces before shaking it.</p><p>"Lovely to meet you. Thank you for making our date so special." Harry grins. She looks at his hand that's shaking.</p><p>"What has happened?" she asks.</p><p>"Aiko..." Louis says, nervously.</p><p>"No, it's okay." Harry lies. "I was in a car accident."</p><p>"Oh. I am so sorry," she says. "Well, let's get you two seated. Food is always the best medicine."</p><p>Louis and Harry follow her to their table, and Louis pulls a seat out for Harry. Harry takes a seat and places his napkin in his lap.</p><p>"Drinks?" Aiko asks, pulling out her order sheet.</p><p>"I'll just do a Coke." Louis smiles. He looks at Harry.</p><p>"Same," Harry says. She nods and walks off.</p><p>"You could have gotten a beer, Harry..." Louis says. "I don't care."</p><p>"No... I'm already tipsy, I don't need to get drunk too," Harry says and takes Louis hand. "I want to enjoy this date and remember it, not let my addiction get in the way."</p><p>Louis smiles. "Good. I glad it hasn't been so terrible that you want to forget it." he teases. Harry laughs, and Aiko walks over with their drinks.</p><p>"Two cokes." she smiles. "Your appetizer is almost done. I'll bring that over as soon as it's done." she grins.</p><p>"Thank you, Aiko." Louis grins at her.</p><p>Harry takes in Louis. He's so confident around people, so sure. He didn't let his injury destroy his confidence. Maybe there is something Harry can learn from him.</p><p>"So... Why'd you almost cancel on me?" Louis asks, looking at Harry. Harry frowns and taps the tabletop with his pointer finger.</p><p>"It's... kind of a sad story," Harry says quietly.</p><p>"I don't mind," Louis says. "I want to get to know you. All of you. The good, the bad, and the ugly." he smiles.</p><p>Harry sighs. "Monica and I made up."</p><p>"That's good!"</p><p>Harry nods. "Yeah. It is. So then I asked her for advice on my outfit. And... she said I should try to wear the outfit I was wearing the night of my accident. I started to spiral, and drink— which is really frustrating because I hadn't drunk all day— and then I texted you and you calmed me down."</p><p>"I did?"</p><p>"Yeah. You did." Harry looks at him, smiling. Louis smiles back.</p><p>"Well, I'm glad. And, I'm glad that you went most of your day without drinking. That's an accomplishment."</p><p>"Doesn't feel like it..." Harry mumbles.</p><p>"But it is! When we first met, you would wake up and immediately start drinking. Now it's not the first thing you think of in the morning. I'm assuming."</p><p>"You're right."</p><p>"What thought replaced it?" Louis asks.</p><p>Harry blushes deeply. "Um... you."</p><p>"Me?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Aww. Harold, I'm flattered." he grins. Aiko sets down a plate of spring rolls.</p><p>"Careful. They might be hot," she says and rushes off. Harry chuckles.</p><p>"She's sweet."</p><p>"Yeah. She's almost like a second mother to me since I haven't been home in so long."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"My job took up all my time. And then I've been injured, so traveling just seemed like such a hassle."</p><p>"I understand that." Harry nods. "Especially because I wouldn't want to get disability help."</p><p>"Right! I don't need to be escorted around, I know how to do this. I just can't walk very far." Louis laughs.</p><p>Harry smiles and grabs one of the spring rolls, taking a bite. "Oh, shit. These are good!" he laughs.</p><p>Louis smiles and grabs one too. "I always order them when I come here. That's probably why she put them in as a part of dinner."</p><p>"Well, it's not a bad choice. I could eat these until I die." Harry jokes.</p><p>Louis laughs. "No, don't do that. I like you alive too much."</p><p>Harry looks at him and blushes. "Oh, stop. You don't mean that. You don't even know me that well."</p><p>"So? I still have like the worlds biggest crush on you. And I would be devastated if something ever happens to you." Louis grabs his hand. "Just because I don't know you inside and out doesn't mean I don't care."</p><p>Harry sighs. Deep inside, he just can't believe that. It's not possible. "I just lost so many people after the accident. It's hard to trust."</p><p>"I understand." Louis nods. "I want to be able to show you that there are people you can trust. Always."</p><p>Harry smiles. Louis cared about him.</p><p>Louis. The boy with a shattered knee.</p><p>Louis. The boy who smoked a pack a day.</p><p>Louis. The only boy Harry has ever imagined being with past a one night stand.</p><p>Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis.</p><p>Both boys sit in silence for a little as the stuff their faces with spring rolls and play a gentle game of "footsie" underneath the table. Aiko comes over once they're done and takes their empty plate of spring rolls, replacing it with five sushi rolls.</p><p>"Here we are, boys." she smiles. "A spicy California rolls, a spider roll, a Philadelphia roll, a dynamite roll, and a vegetable roll," she says, motioning to each roll on the plate. "Enjoy."</p><p>"Thank you, Aiko," Harry says. He grabs the chopsticks on the table, watching as Louis just reaches for a piece with his fingers. "Do you not use chopsticks?"</p><p>Louis looks at him, embarrassed. "I... never learned how. Whenever I use them, I always crush the sushi roll or drop it in my lap. But if me using my hands makes you uncomfortable, I'll use a fork."</p><p>"Oh no," Harry says and hands him the chopsticks. "I'll teach you. You can't eat sushi with your fingers or a fork."</p><p>"I asked Aiko, and she said it's okay..."</p><p>"Louis."</p><p>"Fine," he says and takes them.</p><p>"Now, this is how I learned so it might not be perfect technique, but it works," Harry says. Louis just nods and watches him.</p><p>"First, pinch both sticks between thumb and pointer and rest against the table," Harry says. Harry tries to show him, but his hand is shaking too bad for him to steady it. He sighs and drops them. Louis covers his hand and smiles.</p><p>"Here, just show on me," Louis says, holding out his hand. Harry helps him get a decent hold.</p><p>"Perfect! Now hold the bottom chopstick in place with your ring finger and the fatty part of your palm." Harry says, gently correcting the way Louis holds it.</p><p>"Now, move the top stick with your pointer and thumb, holding the bottom one still." Louis does as told, picking up a piece, placing it in soy sauce, and eating it.</p><p>"I did it!" he smiles, so proud his eyes scrunch up so small they disappear. Harry smiles brightly at the look.</p><p>"You should smile more. It suits you." Harry says, staring at him fondly. Louis blushes profoundly and looks at the table.</p><p>"I've always hated my smile," he says, eating more.</p><p>"Why?" Harry says, ashamed that he has to use his fingers to take a bite.</p><p>"Well me mom couldn't afford braces, so they're crooked. And now I smoke so they're yellow. Plus, my eyes crinkle, and I look stupid."</p><p>"No." Harry shakes his head. "You look... like a masterpiece."</p><p>Louis blushes. "Thank you, Harry. You do too. When you're not passed out drunk in a bathtub."</p><p>Harry frowns and nods. "Yeah. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm honestly surprised you still wanted to go out with me after seeing that."</p><p>"Well... it's hard to ignore. But I also know you have an addiction, and that won't just go away overnight. So... I'm just gonna be here to support you." Louis touches his hand. "You deserve to be supported."</p><p>Harry blushes and grins at him. "Thank you. So much."</p><p>They boys converse lightly while they finish off their rolls. Aiko offers them dessert, but both refuse, stating they're too full. She gives them a free meal, but both boys chip in on the tip so it equals what the meal would have costed, if not more.</p><p>Harry helps Louis stand out of his chair and follows him to the car. He gets embarrassed when he notices that his tremor causes both of their hands to shake when he holds Louis' hand. He tries to let go and Louis looks at him.</p><p>"What is it?" Louis says.</p><p>"I'm making your hand shake," Harry says, quiet and embarrassed.</p><p>"Oh, Harry, no reason to be upset. I promise I haven't even noticed. Do not let that bother you, okay?"</p><p>"Okay." Harry nods, still feeling extremely embarrassed. Louis opens the door for him, closing it after he sits in. Louis climbs in, and they begin their drive to the next location.</p><p>"What's next?" Harry asks.</p><p>"You'll see." Louis smiles. He continues his drive until they pull up to a drive-in movie theatre. Harry gasps and smiles.</p><p>"Oh, Louis! This place is so cute. How'd you find it?"</p><p>"Honestly? I googled." he chuckles, paying the entrance fee and driving them into their spot. "Now, I'm gonna go pay for snacks, can you get the speakers put in the car?" he says, turning off the car and rolling the windows down. Harry nods and unbuckles his seatbelt, climbing out.</p><p>"Do you want an Icee or soda?" Louis says.</p><p>"A cherry Icee would be great." Harry smiles. Louis nods and starts to limp away. Harry grabs the speakers and puts them in the car carefully. He turns them on and climbs back in. He texts Monica.</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: He's so sweet. We first went to dinner, and now we're at a drive-in movie.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Monicaaa: Man... I might have to steal him. He's exactly what I'm looking for in a man. Watch out.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Harolddd: Hahaha very funny.</strong>
</p><p>Louis walks over and hands Harry his Icee. "One cherry Icee, one blue raspberry Icee, and a large popcorn," he says, climbing into the car.</p><p>"Thanks, Louis." Harry smiles, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Louis smiles at him. He turns around and starts pulling out blankets and hands one to Harry.</p><p>"Do you like romcoms? I figured you might, but I'm just checking." Louis says.</p><p>"Yeah, I love romcoms. They're my favorite type of movie." Harry smiles backs.</p><p>"What's your favorite?" Louis says, turning his body to face him.</p><p>"Oh... well, my favorite rom-com is probably "Knocked Up." My favorite movie is "Titanic."" Harry says, blushing a little.</p><p>"Yeah, "Knocked Up" is good, but it's kinda old," Louis says. "I'm more of a "Trainwreck" man myself."</p><p>"Trainwreck was terrible."</p><p>"I'm offended." Louis jokes. "That has to be the best goddamn movie ever made."</p><p>"No. I fell asleep, it was so boring."</p><p>"Well... maybe you just have bad taste."</p><p>Both boys break out into laughter.</p><p>"So, what movie is playing?" Harry asks.</p><p>"I'm not sure. They just release a venue, time, and genre, and then you show up." Louis shrugs. "That's why I like it so much. I don't get to decide if I want to see that movie, I just show up."</p><p>"Doesn't allow you to be picky."</p><p>"Exactly! And I am... very picky." Louis chuckles and takes a handful of popcorn. The lights dim, and the credits for the movie start playing. Harry curls up in his seat to watch, holding his shaking hand against his chest.</p><p>During the movie, Louis and Harry will occasionally feed each other popcorn and sneak glances at one another. Louis even teases Harry at one point for quoting the film under his breath.</p><p>"Hey. I'm trying to watch the movie." Louis teases.</p><p>Harry looks at him like he's crazy. "What?"</p><p>"You're saying the lines to yourself," Louis smirks. Harry shakes his head.</p><p>"Yeah, and?"</p><p>Louis just smirks and turns back to the movie. Once the movie was over, they slowly clear out of the drive-in theatre. "That was so much fun," Harry says happily, yawning. It has just turned 11pm, meaning Harry had officially gone 7 hours without a sip of alcohol. And he felt okay.</p><p>When they pull up in front of Harry apartment complex, Louis turns off the car door and looks at Harry.</p><p>"I had a great time." Louis smiles and takes his hand.</p><p>"So did I. I haven't actually been this happy since..."</p><p>"Agreed." Louis nods and kisses his hand. "Let me walk you to your door." Harry nods, and they both climb out of the car. They take the elevator upstairs, and Harry heads to his door. He faces Louis.</p><p>Louis smiles up at him. "Really, Harry. Thank you," he says. Louis takes his hand and steps closer, the toes of their shoes touching.</p><p>Harry breath, hitches. "Thank you," he says. He feels his heart begin to race, and he's sure it's thudding to loud against his chest that Louis can hear it.</p><p>Louis goes up onto his tiptoes and looks down at Harry's lips. Harry licks them quickly and looks down at his lips too. Louis leans in and brushes them together, letting his eyes flutter shut. Harry presses their lips together, grabbing Louis waist.</p><p>Louis' hands wrap around Harry's neck as their lips move together in time. And there was this. Kissing Louis.</p><p>Louis. The boy with a shattered knee.</p><p>Louis. The boy who smoked a pack a day.</p><p>Louis. The only boy Harry has ever imagined being with past a one night stand.</p><p>Louis. Louis. Louis. Louis.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry smiles down at Louis after their kiss. Louis smiles and pulls away, beginning to walk down the hallway. Harry doesn't let go of his hand, however, keeping Louis from walking down the hall. Louis stops and turns, looking at him, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>"Um... do you maybe wanna... Come inside?" Harry blushes, looking down at his shoes. Louis smiles and walks closer, lifting his chin with his finger.</p><p>"I'd love to."</p><p>Harry swallows and nods. He turns around to unlock the door and then walks in. The apartment is dark, with only the open windows letting in the light of the moon. He turns to face Louis and is immediately met with Louis' lips crashing against his. Harry whimpers and grabs Louis' bicep.</p><p>Louis is a skilled kisser, his lips moving in perfect time with Harry's, with the right amount of tongue and lip biting. Harry is very quickly turning into putty into his hands.</p><p>As Louis kisses down to Harry's jaw and then neck, Harry gasps and shuts his eyes closed.</p><p>"Top or bottom?" Harry gasps as Louis sucks gently on his skin. Louis chuckles and pulls away, making eye contact. "Whatever you want, love."</p><p>Harry shivers and nods. "Do you want to top?"</p><p>Louis smirks and nods, kissing Harry deeply again. Both boys moan as Harry leads them to the bedroom, sloppy kisses being shared as they do. Louis pins Harry against the door frame.</p><p>"Is this okay?" he asks. Harry nods and then feels Louis cup him through his jeans. He moans loudly and tips his head back. Louis smirks and kisses at his collarbones.</p><p>Harry drags Louis towards the bed and then falls onto it. Louis stands above him and removes his shirt, throwing it onto the floor. Harry sits up and takes off his white shirt. Louis gasps at the tattoos that litter Harry's pale skin and leans down to kiss as many as he can. Harry leans back and enjoys it until it starts again.</p><p>A tremor fit. Uncontrollable shaking on his right side of the body. They are spontaneous and require no trigger. Harry leans back and sobs, covering his eyes with his left elbow as his right side twitches. Louis crawls away and watches.</p><p>"Harry?"</p><p>"Go, Lou."</p><p>"W-what?"</p><p>"I don't want you to see me like this."</p><p>"Harry... I don't care. You're still gorgeous." Louis says, moving Harry's left arm and looking into his eyes. Harry is crying.</p><p>"We can't.... not when I'm like this."</p><p>"Okay." Louis whispers. "How long do they last."</p><p>"Usually, like... 30 minutes."</p><p>Louis nods and undoes his jeans. "Louis, I'm serious."</p><p>"I know. I'm not gonna do anything," he says and kicks them off, laying next to Harry. He pulls him close and holds him tight. "Besides... I'm kinda glad we got stopped. I want our first time to be more romantic than that."</p><p>"Oh shut up, Lou," Harry says, still not in a great mood.</p><p>"I'm serious, Harry. You're gorgeous."</p><p>"No. I'm a fucking mess."</p><p>"So am I. You're still gorgeous." Louis kisses him softly.</p><p>They both fall asleep after Harry's episode, wrapped in each other's arms.</p><p>Harry rolls over, throwing his arm across Louis naked chest. He opens his eyes and looks at Louis, smiling. Louis was still fast asleep, his lips allowing small puffs of air to escape.</p><p>Harry lays there for a few minutes, watching Louis sleep before carefully climbing out of bed. He nakedly walks to his bathroom, taking a shower.</p><p>He dresses in sweatpants and no shirt, going into his living room. Something about him felt lighter today. Maybe it was the fact he had showered for the first time in a month and didn't drink (heavily, at least) last night. And Louis was laying in his bed! They spent a fantastic night together (excluding Harry's episode), and soon Harry gets to see him again, walking out of his bedroom.</p><p>Harry carefully puts on one of his records and moves his hips softly to the music. For the first time since the accident, he felt alive. However, as he was going to put the needle on the record, his hand trembles and scratches the vinyl. It was a nasty scratch, going across the whole record. The scratched almost resembles a scar, a haunting imperfection that could have possibly ruined the symphony of notes hidden inside the divots of the record.</p><p>Harry's eyes water as he sets down the needle. It's nowhere near the edge of the album, and surely a vast majority of the song would be skipped, but that didn't matter now. The record was destroyed forever.</p><p>The record player, however, was unaware of the scratch and filled the room with music. It spins agonizingly slow, almost taunting Harry with the slow spin it produces. Despite the odds, the needle glides over the scratch and continues to pour out the lovely melodies through its speakers.</p><p>'This just might be a beautiful day after all,' Harry thinks with a smile. He heads to the kitchen, dancing as he does. He sings along with the song, his body practically floating.</p><p>Harry pours himself a coffee and grabs the vodka. Just before he starts to pour a shot, he freezes. 'He'll smell it on your breath.' Harry thinks and sets it down. He drinks his coffee while looking out on the streets of New York.</p><p>He sings softly along to the song, his voice deep and heavy, cracking in all the right ways. He sips his coffee as Louis walks out of the bedroom, wearing boxers and Harry's shirt.</p><p>"Good morning." Harry smiles at him. "Want some coffee?"</p><p>"I'd love some," he says and kisses him deeply. "Good morning."</p><p>Harry smiles and hands him a mug. Louis pours himself some coffee.</p><p>"I heard you singing. You've got a lot of nerve telling me I got a good voice when you sound like that." Louis says.</p><p>"Sound like what?"</p><p>"Like a freaking God!" Louis chuckles and sits next to him.</p><p>Harry leans down and kisses him softly. He didn't seem to mind that Louis tased like coffee, morning breath, and cigarettes. Maybe because that was Louis. Harry pulls away and stands up.</p><p>"Do you like eggs?"</p><p>"Love 'em." Louis smiles and watches Harry walk to the kitchen. Harry pulls out a pan, butter, and eggs. "Did you design your tattoos?"</p><p>Harry looks at his bare arms and chest. "Yeah. Most of 'em. The black heart obviously not, and the roman numerals, but other than that, yeah."</p><p>"I think I want to start getting some. Now that my ballet career is over."</p><p>"Why didn't you before?" Harry says, scrambling the eggs.</p><p>"Because they would have looked back with the costumes. But now my body is mine again, so I can do what I please with it."</p><p>Harry nods and thinks back to last night. It was a shame his tremor had to ruin everything. Harry was positive that sex with Louis would have been the 8th wonder of the world. With their chemistry, it's almost hard to imagine that their sex wouldn't have been explosive. He kept thinking about how muscular Louis' thighs felt in his hand and how his muscles would tense every time he moved. Harry was more of a lanky mess, always had been, always would be. But together, their bodies danced, moving in time with one another. It was almost hard to believe they had never done this before together. Perhaps in another life.</p><p>"If I could still draw, I would have designed you one," Harry says sadly. He starts to toast some bread.</p><p>"Eh, I kinda wanna use my arm as a sketchbook. Not have any rhyme or reason to mine." Louis shrugs.</p><p>"Then I wish I could paint last night. It was magical. I wish I could transfer that beauty to a canvas." he frowns.</p><p>Louis frowns at him and taps his finger. "I um... haven't danced since my surgery. Not even something simple. I'm too scared that the difference will change everything I loved about dance. So... I understand. What you're going through. It's not easy to lose the thing you love the most."</p><p>"No. It isn't." Harry frowns and serves up their food.</p><p>"But we're going to get through it together."</p><p>"You think so?"</p><p>"I know so."</p><p>It was another hour later, and the boys were softly making out on the couch when it happens. It was almost a full 18 hours without alcohol, and Harry's body was going into withdrawal. Harry pulls away, dizzy and confused, before falling back against the couch and having a withdrawal seizure.</p><p>"Hello? 911. Yeah, my boyfriends having a seizure. He's an alcoholic. No, I don't know the last time he drank."</p><p>"Harry. Harry, please talk to me. You're gonna be okay. I promise."</p><p>"No, I don't know. The doctor says it's from him going through withdrawal. He's been out for several hours now. The doctors aren't concerned. I just need him to be okay."</p><p>"Stay strong, Harry. Remember. We'll get through his together."</p><p>Harry's eyes flutter open. His mouth feels dry, and he looks around, confused.</p><p>"Harry."</p><p>Harry looks over at the voice, seeing Louis stand in the doorway of the hospital.</p><p>"Oh, my God. You're awake. Here." he presses the call nurse button and then hugs him. "Oh my God, I was so worried about you."</p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>"You had a seizure."</p><p>"What... Why?"</p><p>"Good morning, Harry." his nurse says. "Had a rough night. How are you feeling?"</p><p>"Uh... my mouths dry."</p><p>"Understandable, we'll get you some water. The doctor will be in shortly to talk with you. But I wouldn't be concerned. You should be out of here in a couple of hours."</p><p>Harry nods, and she leaves the room. Harry looks back at Louis.</p><p>"I'm sorry."</p><p>"No. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. I told you. We're gonna get through this together."</p><p>Harry pulls away, his cheeks damp with tears. Louis sits up and wipes them away.</p><p>"This is so scary. Fuck, I wanna drink."</p><p>"I know. I know it's scary. But you're gonna get through it. I promise."</p><p>"Why are you still here?"</p><p>"Because... I care very deeply for you. And seeing you grow and cope with your trauma is encouraging me to do the same."</p><p>Harry looks away and keeps crying. "I don't want this. I just want to be better. I don't want to have seizures."</p><p>Louis doesn't say anything, just holds him. "You're gonna be okay. I promise."</p><p>The doctor walks in. "Harry. Dr. Murphy." he shakes his hand. "We... have a severe case on our hand."</p><p>Harry's eyes widen.</p><p>"You are a full-blown alcoholic. And you are causing serious liver and brain damage. If you don't stop now, you could cause permanent and irreversible damage to your body. Join support groups, go to therapy, find a rehab center, whatever you think will work. But it needs to stop. Now."</p><p>Harry looks down at his lap and starts crying again. How is it possible he has ruined his life so badly. All from one fucking car accident. The doctor talks to Louis about making sure Harry is never alone. During the withdrawal process, he could have more seizures, hallucinations, and extreme anxiety. However, they should only last about four days.</p><p>"Harry. Are you okay?" Louis asks.</p><p>"No. I'm fucking killing myself. All this time, I thought I wanted to be dead, but the truth is that I just wanted to forget. Forget all the pain I have felt since my accident. But I never wanted to die."</p><p>"You have options. And they will work."</p><p>"Nothing's worked. I can't afford rehab, group therapy just makes me more depressed, and... I don't have enough willpower to stop on my own. I'll probably drink myself to death."</p><p>Louis sighs and climbs into bed, holding him. "It's gonna be okay. We'll figure it out."</p><p>"No, Louis! Nothing is okay! And it's all your fucking fault! You pushed me too far! You told me I could get through this! You made me not want to drink! This is your fault, you selfish asshole!" Harry shouts. Louis' eyes widen, and his lip quivers.</p><p>"Well, then... If you think that's true... I see no reason for me to be here any longer."</p><p>"Good. Get out! I never want to see you ever again!" Harry yells.</p><p>Louis clenches his jaw and grabs his coat, storming out of the hospital room. Harry huffs and leans back in his bed. A nurse and a psychologist both come in and talk to Harry about rehabilitation options and places where he could go to receive the help he needs.</p><p>"Can I say no?" Harry says, looking at all of the brochures in panic.</p><p>"Unfortunately, because of your previous suicide attempts and now withdrawal-related seizures, we require you to go to rehab." The psychologist says. "It's six weeks, Harry. We need you to go."</p><p>Harry frowns and starts crying. "Okay. When will I go?"</p><p>"Saturday."</p><p>Harry just nods and looks out the window. "Okay."</p>
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